


An Old Tradition

by dhwty_writes



Series: Winter Prompt Challenge [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mentioned Eskel (The Witcher), Mentioned Lambert (The Witcher), Mentioned Vesemir (The Witcher), Mistletoe, Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhwty_writes/pseuds/dhwty_writes
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are on their way to Oxenfurt to spend the winter there. While traveling through the snowy countryside, Geralt remembers a custom from his youth.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Winter Prompt Challenge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035792
Comments: 15
Kudos: 134





	An Old Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! For all those of you who are just here because of OWBABH, I'm sorry. I decided to do [this winter prompt challenge](https://witcher-and-his-bard.tumblr.com/post/634710612632551424/winter-prompt-challenge-i-wanted-to-make-a#_=_) by [xxenjoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy) and there might be some slight delay in the update schedule.  
> But this is a lot of fun, so yeah. Let's see how many I can manage. On with this one now: Day 1 - Mistletoe

What Geralt liked above anything else was continuity. Routine. The daily grind. You name it.

He named all his horses Roach. He put on his left sock first, but his right boot. He sharpened his sword with one hundred well-measured strokes exactly. He travelled with one bard, and one bard only. He sought out the loneliest table in the tavern, he ordered the cheapest ale, he listened to Jaskier sing, and gave him shitty three-words-or-less-reviews Jaskier found funny. He went to winter in Kaer Morhen.

It was easy. It was familiar. Maybe it was even desperate, his futile attempt to create any semblance of normalcy on the path. Whatever it was, he never _ever_ strayed from it.

Except for this winter. This winter, for the first time in decades, he wasn’t returning home. And he wasn't even mad about it.

The reason for that was quite simple: It had taken him twenty years to "pull his head out of his arse", as Jaskier colourfully had put it, and there was no way in hell he'd spend the winter without his bard, his best friend, his lover.

He had contemplated bringing him to Kaer Morhen. It was the sensible thing to do, he knew. In the end, it had been his family’s ceaseless teasing that had gotten him to burst out: “Alright, fine, I’ll tell him first thing we meet in the spring!” It had been Lambert and Eskel shadowing him unsubtle as they were, that had actually gotten him to follow through. By all rights he should bring Jaskier home. But he couldn’t.

Neither he, nor Vesemir, nor Kaer Morhen were prepared for the entity of pure chaos that Lambert and Jaskier undoubtedly would morph into five minutes into their meeting. Lambert fished with bombs and Jaskier was… well, he was Jaskier. He dreaded to think of what would happen with _both of them_ cooped up in the keep for months.

So, Oxenfurt it was.

They were, admittedly, a bit late. The first snow blanketed the earth already, and the winter term Jaskier was supposed to teach, had started five days ago while they were still ambling through the Redanian countryside.

They didn't really care. Well, Jaskier didn't really care. They had each other to keep warm at night, and during the day they were walking. Jaskier had been sent a portion of his salary in advance, so they could comfortably stay in inns instead of shivering in the snows (besides, he didn't need an excuse to hold his bard close anymore, he could do it whenever he pleased. The thought still made his heart flutter and his pupils dilate as if he had just passed the trials a month ago and not yet learned how to control them.)

When he had voiced his concerns about arriving late after the Academy had been so generous, Jaskier had only laughed. "Come on Geralt, they know I'm a travelling bard, they're well aware of the risk; they can wait. And judging by the salary they offered me, they are willing to take it to." He had laced his fingers behind his neck and leaned back, pushing his icy toes under Geralt's thigh. "Besides, none of the students shows up in the first week anyways, so why should I?"

He could think of at least a dozen good reasons why, but then Jaskier had tugged at Geralt's breeches with the icicles he called feet, and thinking had become quite difficult.

Besides their occasional roll in the hay their relationship hadn't changed that much, truth be told. Well, apart from the fact that Jaskier proclaimed their new relationship status to anyone who listened—and those who didn't as well. And disregarding the never-ending assault of pet names that spilt from the bard’s lips—and the odd one from him as well. Oh, and the ballads, of course, about lovers with silver hair and golden eyes that were heard in every tavern of the Continent. And the fact that he could kiss Jaskier, and hold his hand—and frequently did so—and that now the world didn't look quite as bleak as it had before, and- Alright, maybe a lot had changed.

Geralt found that he didn't mind. He liked seeing the world as Jaskier did, in its beauty instead of its cruelty. He liked to see the ethereal- the _etherealness_ of the snow instead of the deadly cold it was. He liked seeing the sunlight sparkle in icicles, he liked following Jaskier over fields instead of paths, to leave their own footprints, he liked seeing mistletoes in the trees- oh.

He stopped abruptly, craning his head to get a better look. He remembered there being a tradition. Maybe Vesemir had told him about, maybe he had known before the trials, maybe-

"Geralt?" Jaskier stopped his incessant chatter and turned to him, a few dozen feet ahead. "Are you coming?"

"Hmm," he answered, still regarding the parasite above. He should have thought of that first, shouldn't he? What kind of plant it was, how it was useful. Not some silly tradition.

He wanted to keep on walking, but it was too late. Jaskier had already taken an interest. "What is it?" he asked eagerly, hurrying to him as fast as he could, without falling face first into the slippery snow.

Geralt pulled up his shoulders, feeling self-conscious all of the sudden. "Nothing."

"Oh no." Jaskier had reached him now and looped his arms around his neck. Roach snorted quietly when Geralt put his free arm around his bard's waist, the other hand still holding onto the reins.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no," the bard chattered on. "You, my dear witcher," sillily, he poked him on the nose, "don't get to weasel out of my questions that easily anymore." He smiled brightly, and really, that was all it took these days to get Geralt babbling like a fool. "Talk to me, my love," he pleaded, and that was when his last resolve broke.

He buried his face in Jaskier's neck to inhale the calming scent. He lips brushed faintly against the tender skin, making Jaskier squirm when he spoke: "Back when I was young there was a tradition," he explained. "If two people passed under a mistletoe, they had to kiss each other."

"Oh, is that all?" He laughed and put a finger under Geralt's chin to get him to look at him. "That doesn't seem too difficult."

"It's silly."

"And did you not call me a 'silly man' more times than both of us can count?" He cast a quick glance upwards. "Look, we're standing right under it. Come here, my darling witcher mine, and kiss your silly bard senseless."

Geralt smiled and ducked down to press a quick kiss to his lips. When he pulled away, he grinned even wider.

Jaskier looked very disorientated. "Wha-"

"There," he replied smugly. "Kissed you senseless."

"You-" Jaskier gasped as realisation dawned on him. "You! You mean witcher, you, I hate you, why do I love you so, when you insist on being so vile and vicious and-?"

Geralt laughed, loud and full, and pulled him closer for another kiss. "My silly bard," he whispered against his lips. "Mine to keep."

"My mean witcher," Jaskier agreed. "No getting rid of me anymore."

He hummed thoughtfully and kissed him again. "Never wanted to in the first place."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, leave a comment and a kudo or come over to chat with me on [tumblr](https://dhwty-writes.tumblr.com/) if you liked it!


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